The Cinnamon Scent That Wouldn't Let Me Go

Winnie’s POV

For a moment…

I couldn’t hear a thing.

The drums, the chanting, the excited gasps and cheers—

Everything faded under the ringing in my ears.

Jason.

On one knee.

Holding a ring.

And Lila—the Alpha’s sister—smiling like she just won a trophy.

I wasn’t breathing.

I couldn’t.

My legs continued moving on their own, pushing through the bodies violently while ignoring the stares I got until I finally reached the edge of the circle.

“Jason?” I called, even though my voice hardly came out.

He turned slowly.

His eyes met mine, but like the night before, they were filled with emotions I couldn't understand.

“What?” he said.

“W-What…” The words were stuck in my throat. “Jason, what is this? What are you doing?”

“Doing what? I don't understand you,” he said, and my heart dropped.

“What are you doing? Why are you proposing to her? We are together, did you hit your head or something?” I yelled, my hands trembling.

“Together?” He scoffed lightly. “We were just friends, Winnie. You convinced yourself it was more.

What?

My heart cracked loudly enough that I swore others heard it.

“M-Misunderstood?”

“You mistook my kindness for love,” he said, cold and plain, with no emotions, more like a robot.

People began whispering.

“Oh Moon, the freak is here.”

“She thinks he’s hers.”

“Delulu at its peak.”

My throat tightened painfully.

“That’s not true,” I whispered. “We grew up together. You held me when I got bullied, when I lost my pet—”

My voice broke.

“You… kissed me. You told me I matter.”

He closed his eyes for a moment.

“It wasn’t romantic,” he said quietly. “You’re just a friend.”

My world tilted.

Just a friend?

Yes, he never asked me out, but his actions—actions, they say, are louder than words.

A friend doesn't stay up talking till dawn.

A friend doesn’t hold your face like it’s fragile.

A friend doesn’t make you feel chosen and feed your ears with “I love you” now and then.

A friend won't take your virginity.

Or maybe I really was stupid.

Maybe I read everything wrong, but how? I thought we were together. We really were.

Someone snorted behind me while another laughed.

“She actually thought he wanted her—”

“Isn't she the girl with no wolf?”

“Yeah, no wolf, no shift, no bond. Just a freak that grew in dungarees.”

My eyes burned with hot tears.

I wanted to run.

I wanted to disappear.

I wanted to sink into the ground the Moon Goddess once blessed—back when mates were real, back when wolves believed destiny had something for everyone.

But that was centuries ago.

Now?

Everything is modern. We are in the 21st century.

Everyone just married whoever they wanted.

Love was a choice.

A bond built, not born or fated.

So why… why couldn’t Jason choose me?

He freaking chose me, he told me he loved me, but what's going on now?

I laughed weakly, the sound breaking in my throat .

“You’ll regret this, Jason,” I said softly, 

“Maybe not today… but you will.”

Something tightened around my arm, bringing me out of my thoughts.

A strong hand.

“Get her out of here,” a guard muttered.

“What? Let me go!” I pushed, panic rising. “Jason—please—”

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t blink.

He didn’t even look at me.

He stood there beside Lila, accepting the cheers, the applause, the congratulations…

Like I was a stranger he’d never seen before.

The guard pulled me harder, dragging me through the crowd.

Faces blurred before my eyes.

Voices blurred too.

“Poor thing.”

“She should’ve known her place.”

“She’s lucky Lila didn’t claw her.”

I stumbled when the guard shoved me past the last row of bodies.

My knees hit the ground.

Pain shot up my legs, but they were nothing compared to the stabbing pain I felt in my chest.

Something warm slipped down my cheek.

Then another.

And another.

I didn’t sob.

I didn’t scream.

I just sat there… still trying to process all that just happened.

I even pinched myself to be sure I wasn't in a dream.

I really was stupid enough to believe someone like him could love someone like me.

I'm a freak, just a strange half-moon birthmark and a human-weak body.

No one would ever want me.

I wiped my cheeks and forced myself to stand.

My chest hurt so much I could barely breathe.

My vision blurred with every few steps.

I don’t know how long I walked or where I was going, but my legs kept moving, maybe for minutes or even hours.

The festival music faded behind me, and again, I thought for a second that everything was just a nightmare.

My chest felt tight, like something inside had cracked and kept cracking with every breath.

The tears in my eyes had seemed to dry up. And I couldn't shed anymore.

Somehow my feet carried me toward the lower side of the pack, where the lights were dimmer and the noise was lower.

A small bar sat at the corner with festival lanterns hanging tiredly around its door.

I stopped there.

I should go home.

I should sleep this off.

But my hands were shaking, and my heart was worse. Going home might drive me completely nuts.

I need something to help take this memory off my head.

So I walked in.

The warmth hugged me immediately. The place was quiet—most wolves were still at the main festival, which was perfect.

I sat in the far corner.

The bartender didn’t ask questions.

He just placed a small glass in front of me.

“First drink’s free for today,” he said.

I nodded, lifted it, and gulped every content once.

It burned down my throat in a good way.

I took another shot, then another, and another, till the world around me looked like a low-quality video, till the colours around me were softer and the music in the bar turned slow.

But I loved the way it burned my heart. I kept drowning in it, and I don’t know when the chair beside me shifted.

I don’t know when someone sat there.

But I felt it—the presence.

It was strong, warm, and too solid to ignore.

A low, thick voice rang beside me,

“You shouldn’t be drinking this much.”

I blinked slowly, trying to focus on his face, but everything softened like wet paint.

I caught a whiff of a strong cinnamon scent. It was heavy and so damn familiar in a way that made me feel small.

“I don’t… need your advice,” I muttered, pushing the glass away and trying to stand.

But my legs wobbled below me.

A hand caught my arm; it was steady, firm, and strong enough to stop me from collapsing.

“Easy,” he murmured.

Something inside me curled.

For one stupid second, I thought it was Jason.

“Jason…?” I whispered.

The man beside me froze, then a soft scoff escaped him—quiet and amused, and definitely not Jason.

He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing my cheek.

“No,” he said.

That one word vibrated through me.

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening again.

I don’t know if it was sadness or alcohol or both.

I don’t know what moved first… my hand or his face, or maybe the world was spinning, but suddenly I was tugging on his collar, pulling him closer, and crashing my mouth onto his.

He hesitated.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then his hesitation seemed to grow weaker.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, steadying me as my knees threatened to give out.

The kiss deepened; it was slow at first, then it grew stronger and hotter, like he was letting a door open only halfway, but I was pushing through it recklessly.

My head spun and the lights blurred.

His cinnamon scent wrapped around me like dark smoke.

Then suddenly, everything around me seemed to tilt to one side.

Things blurred more before me and I couldn't keep up with the pace of his lips; he seemed to notice because he stopped, but his face seemed to melt away.

The last thing I felt was—strong arms wrapped around me, protecting me.

Then everything went dark.